All We Ever Have
by misqueue
Summary: A Sequel to "Someday Not Soon". Blaine wakes up the morning after he proposed to Kurt, and he doesn't know Kurt's answer. A 4x22 reaction fic. Title from the lyrics to Ryan Star's "Right Now".


When Blaine wakes the next morning, it's to the gray light of early dawn and an empty bed. The sun's not yet above the horizon, and Kurt's curtains are still open. Blaine rubs his eyes and sits up. Kurt's door is ajar; the house is quiet and cool. The ring box rests closed upon Kurt's nightstand. Blaine looks at it, but he doesn't reach for it.

Kurt's bedroom is foreign now; few of his belongings remain. Some books, candles that have never been lit, an empty vase. No photographs or mementos. The shelves that once brimmed with pieces of Kurt's life are bare for the most part. No scarves drape the mirror, and the only objects cluttering the dresser are things Kurt's brought with him from New York.

Blaine gets up, collects his underwear from the floor, and slips them on. In the pallid light and stillness, he finds his trousers and shirt, his socks. He hesitates while reaching for his watch. Almost picks up the ring box instead to put it back in his pocket, but it's not his any longer, unless Kurt tells him 'no'. And Kurt hasn't said very much yet. Last night was wonderful—undeniably so—but inconclusive. Blaine is neither encouraged nor dismayed.

He straps his watch back on his wrist, picks up his car keys from where they fell on the floor, pockets them with a jarringly loud jangle. Cardigan, tie, wallet, shoes. Looks around once more. That's everything he came with. Except— His eyes glance back at the ring box.

Blaine tries very hard not to feel anything in particular, not curiosity, neither hope nor disappointment. He imagined every possible outcome before he even decided to buy the ring, but right now he simply doesn't know, and he's not going to pretend otherwise. But he is prepared.

He goes to the bathroom to freshen up, and finds his spare tooth brush is still in the top drawer. His hair is stubborn beneath his wet fingers, but Blaine is patient. It's perfect by the time he leaves the bathroom, and so is his smile.

The scent of coffee wafts up the stairwell as Blaine descends, a warm curl of familiarity amid the strange austerity of the morning.

#

He finds Kurt in the kitchen, reaching into the open fridge and bringing out a gray paper egg carton. "Hi," Blaine says, easy and friendly. There's no pressure.

Kurt's in his old pajamas and dressing gown, and his hair is gloriously sleep mussed. If it weren't for the changes New York has wrought, it'd be easy to pretend he was looking at last year's Kurt. But Kurt is different, inhabits his own body more comfortably, like it's a well tailored suit instead of a slightly awkward vehicle to drive. His grace is more unconscious and careless, his shoulders broader, his torso slimmer, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones sharper. Blaine could watch him for hours, just mapping those changes.

Kurt looks over and sets the eggs down on the counter next to a mixing bowl. His eyes are wide and unblinking, his smile small but sincere. His gaze takes in Blaine for a moment before he speaks. "Are you leaving already?" he asks. "I was making us breakfast. There's coffee." He gestures toward the coffee pot.

It's all so _ordinary_. Blaine doesn't let his smile widen though. "I didn't want to presume," Blaine says. "But I'd love to stay."

"Please do," Kurt says, smiles wider, and he goes to the cupboard to get a mug. "Pancakes?" he asks over his shoulder as he pours the coffee.

"Yeah," Blaine says as he sits. "Where is everyone?"

"Dad's in DC, Carole's at work until noon, and Finn no longer lives here. And of course, as you know, neither does Sam."

"Weird," Blaine says. He can't remember a single time the Hummel-Hudson household has been this quiet or empty in the morning.

"It really is," Kurt says, and he slides the mug across the island toward Blaine. "Empty nest."

And that's when Blaine sees it: the glint of silver on Kurt's finger and the flash of the diamond's fire. Blaine stares at Kurt's hand as Kurt lets go of the mug and his hand retreats. The sight of the ring, on _Kurt_, not lying in his own palm or tucked into its box, but on the ring finger of Kurt's right hand, it makes Blaine feel oddly distant and numb, like he's shifted out of his own skin somehow. Kurt goes to the pantry without comment.

"Kurt?" Blaine gets out of his clumsy feeling lips, ignores the hot-cold wash of apprehension creeping up the back of his neck. He thought he'd prepared himself for everything, but not this, not Kurt accepting like _this_. Zigging. Always zigging, and after all this time, Blaine still expects zags.

"Hmm?"

And Blaine realizes another thing: he actually expected Kurt to say 'no'. He hoped for 'yes', but he didn't ever dare to expect it.

Of course, Kurt still hasn't said 'yes', but this means yes, Blaine is almost sure. But he can't remember any of the things he rehearsed saying. "You're wearing it," he says, staring again at Kurt's fingers where they're curved around a glass canister labeled baking powder.

"It fits perfectly," Kurt says. Which still isn't yes.

"So," Blaine says, has to lick a little moisture back onto his lips to speak. He lifts his gaze up, sees Kurt's smile, sees the way it lights his eyes, sees a little hint of something shy, and the brighter shine of something entirely certain and beautifully warm and it's what Blaine's been looking for all these months, the look that feels like _home_. "Does this mean your answer is—"

"Yes."

"Oh my god," Blaine says, and he presses his fingers to his lips. He has to close his eyes to try to trap the image of this moment, store it in his memory forever, because as much as he wants to keep looking at Kurt, this is... this is the rest of their lives starting right here and it feels too big for the quiet kitchen on a cool spring morning with Blaine in yesterday's clothes and Kurt, unkempt and in his dressing gown, holding a jar of baking powder.

He has no idea what's next. Kurt's going back to New York tomorrow, and Blaine still has to finish the school year, hear back from the schools he's applied to, audition, figure out so many things, and they can't even get married in Ohio yet, but—

Kurt's fingers are wrapping around his wrists, irresistibly pulling Blaine's hands away from his face, and then Kurt's mouth is on his, chaste and soft and warm. Blaine opens his eyes again, sees Kurt's are open too, up close and blurry.

When Kurt withdraws from the kiss, his smile is lopsided and affectionate. He lets go of Blaine's wrists to hold his hands instead.

"I have no idea what to do now," Blaine says as honestly as he can, and, for the first time in months, wholly unafraid. A sliver of sunlight breaks across the windowsill, slanting sharp and bright across the island beside him.

"Drink your coffee while I make us pancakes," Kurt says. "And then..." His smile fades, and Blaine sees a deep weariness revealed in Kurt's face, but it's relieved and patient, not strained or yearning. "We'll have breakfast. And then, Blaine, I really want us to talk before I have to go back to New York."

Blaine nods, because, yes, they need to talk.

He must appear nervous though, because Kurt is quick to reassure him: "But please don't worry. We'll figure this out together, I promise."

And Blaine believes him. "We will."


End file.
